Why Letting Go Feels Like Dying

Letting go.

There are goodbyes that break the sound barrier

not with noise, but with silence.

A silence that wraps around your ribs

and doesn’t let go.

Letting go is not gentle.

It’s the sound of a thousand memories

falling to their knees.

It’s the death of a story

you whispered to yourself at night —

the one where they stay,

the one where love wins,

the one where you’re enough.

You don’t just let go of them.

You let go of

who you were

when they still looked at you with wonder.

And when it happens —

when the grip finally loosens —

something in you dies.

Quietly.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

But this death is sacred.

It makes space

for the self that’s been waiting in the shadows.

The one who doesn’t need to be chosen.